


Reel

by yeaka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Exhibitionism, First Time, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-26
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-03 16:51:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/700521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cormac likes pursuing things, and Colin runs in the wrong direction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Start

**Author's Note:**

  * For [imera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imera/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Summer conquest](https://archiveofourown.org/works/509482) by [imera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imera/pseuds/imera). 



> Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.
> 
> This is for the amazing Imera, who I love muchly! Her rarepair fics are so inspiring, and this is the result for me. ♥

Quidditch training is something of a bore, particularly because Cormac isn’t actually in it.

He’s allowed to tag along sometimes. Especially if someone’s feeling sick, and then suddenly it’s all invites his way. He practices a lot anyway, because even if Potter’s too stupid to see it, Cormac _is_ excellent at Quidditch and _should_ be on the team. He’s certainly better than Weasley. He flies like he was made for it; his broom feels _right_ in his hands. He can’t play Keeper now, not with Weasley still in full health. But he joins in with the Chasers and delights when he spots the Snitch before Potter—he’d be a better Seeker, too. He’s not fast enough, or rather, he’s not as small. Potter dives and catches the Snitch before Cormac can, and he goes back to sulking around the middle. 

When the Quaffle flies too close to the stands, Cormac is the one to zoom after it. He’s the one that catches it, turning just as a flash goes off. He tosses the ball to Katie. Once he gets a few meters back into the air, he glances backwards at the stands to see where the flash came from. As usual, there’s a small collection of onlookers. Cormac never pays much attention to them, because Cormac doesn’t generally pay attention to things that aren’t him or aren’t going to get him anything. 

Today there’s a smaller blond boy, a fifth year, he thinks, beaming up at them, a large camera in hand. Cormac blinks as another flash goes off, pointed this time towards the goalposts. Then the boy swivels back around to Cormac, the camera pointed right at him. 

Cormac isn’t moving. He’s hovering in place, staring down. The boy falters, lowering the camera a bit, cheeks flushing. Frowning, Cormac turns around and soars across the pitch. 

He chases the Quaffle for a while, and from then on, he keeps track of which direction the flashes are going in. He doesn’t look down again, but he makes note out the corner of his eye. He starts subtly striking poses—pausing mid-flight and arching his back properly, tilting his chin ruggedly. He preens under the attention, and he stops every so often to finger-comb his hair into place. If he’s not mistaken, he gets about three pictures taken for every one the other players get, even Potter.

By the end of the match, Cormac’s smirking to himself. He knows he’s handsome, of course. He understands. He’s better looking than everyone else on the team, and, if he’s perfectly honest, most other people in Hogwarts. He’s never had any trouble getting girls before. It’s almost gotten to the point where he finds it boring. He’s never tried boys, though.

That probably won’t be hard either, but Cormac could use a challenge. When he lands on the grass beside everyone else, he chances a look back at the stands. It’s too far away to see, of course. But a bright twinkle of light in the distance confirms he’s still being photographed—Cormac pauses to pose dramatically.

* * *

The next day, Cormac wakes up feeling particularly good. He had very delectable dreams about a certain photographer dying to use Cormac for a model. When the sun through his curtains shakes him awake, Cormac finishes the dream off to take care of his morning wood. When he strolls into breakfast, it’s with as much overconfidence as ever, and he finds what he’s looking for without too much trouble.

The boy—the fifth year, Cormac still assumes—is sitting at the Gryffindor table, nose buried in a book. He’s eating his oatmeal somewhat messily, trying to do it while reading. Cormac saunters right over and takes the empty seat next to the boy, purposely not looking over. Out the corner of his eye, he sees the boy glancing sideways and turning a delicate shade of pink. Cormac forks some sausages onto his plate, completely casual.

He takes his first bite before pretending to notice the blushing fifth year, arching one eyebrow.

“Enjoy the match yesterday...?” Cormac tilts his head and leaves the question open in that certain way that indicates he wants the boy to provide his name. When the boy just opens his mouth dumbly and nods, Cormac rolls his eyes. He isn’t the sort to beat around the bush too much. “What’s your name, again?”

“C... Colin Creevey.” Cormac’s smirk only grows. A stutter? This should, indeed, be very easy. 

Leaning forward a few centimeters, Cormac murmurs, eyelids half-lowering, “Did you get all the photos you wanted?”

Colin squeaks and abruptly knocks over his porridge. He mumbles, “Y-yes!” whilst scrambling to clean it up. Cormac just pulls his wand out of his robes, vanishing the mess like it’s no trouble. If anything, he finds the clumsiness endearing. It speaks to his own good looks; he’s that radiantly distracting. 

He tries again, being a bit clearer, “You sure you wouldn’t like... more?”

“Oh.” Colin blinks up at Cormac, brown eyes bright and wide. His light, wavy brown hair is a bit of a mess, and his cheeks are flushed right up to his ears. He looks completely innocent and utterly adorable—a fun target. When Cormac arches another eyebrow tellingly, Colin’s blush deepens, and he repeats, “ _Oh._ ”

“Where should we go?” Cormac asks nonchalantly. He rests his elbow on the table and drops his chin into his palm, letting the sunlight wash over him. Colin’s chewing his lip nervously and squirming in his seat. His robes are a little too big for him, and Cormac can’t help but try to picture what he looks like underneath. “Gryffindor Tower might be a little crowded for what I have in mind. Perhaps an empty classroom...?”

Colin nods mutely and too fast—he looks like he might give himself whiplash. Smirking in victory, Cormac turns to stab his fork back into one of his sausages. He picks his plate up as he takes a bite, climbing out of his seat. He walks down the table and onto the far side, staying at the end, and Colin watches him go, confusion all over that cute face. Cormac likes to keep the mystery up, and besides, he isn’t entirely sure he’s done with the female population yet. He doesn’t want them to know he could play for other teams until he’s successfully mastered this one; Cormac’s nothing but victory.

Not that he thinks there’s any chance of failure. Colin’s eyes linger on him for the rest of breakfast, while Cormac ponders which room he’ll use later.

* * *

The Room of Requirements is as good as any. He has it all set up when he brings Colin into it. It’s a combination of his living room and bedroom back home: large and rich, with an elaborate fireplace on one wall and a bed on the other, king-sized and sporting deep crimson blankets. Colin blushes while he looks at it. There’s a large armchair by the bed that Cormac brings Colin too, gesturing for him to sit down. Colin’s clutching his camera and nothing else; he left his bag behind. He sits down and his robes swallow him up. Cormac croons, “Aren’t you a little warm in that?”

And he strips off his own robes to demonstrate. In just his trousers and white t-shirt, he stretches out across the bed. He lies down on his side, propping his head up on one elbow, pulling his tie out with the other hand. He smiles at Colin encouragingly.

Colin’s a bright red and looks like he might faint. But he does start to fumble with his robes, and eventually he gets them off, stepping out of them. Then he sits back down and drops his camera to the floor, scrambling to pick it back up. Cormac chuckles, “Not into this kind of photography?”

“N-no!” Colin insists. And he instantly takes a shot. Smirking, Cormac tilts his head back, and another pictures snaps. Colin leans forward, almost toppling out of his chair. Cormac points his chin down, looking up at Colin with as sultry eyes as he can manage, biting his lip. He tugs his tie down to give a peak at his collarbone; Colin gulps as he takes another picture. The sudden light’s a little disorienting, but Cormac forces his eyes to stay open. 

After a few more, Colin mumbles, “Er, can you... could you maybe bend your leg like—yeah, like that. Perfect!” Another hurried shot, and Cormac smirks. After two more, he rolls onto his back. Still looking at the camera, he tosses his arms behind his head. Colin practically salivates, trigger finger moving at the speed of light. Cormac arches his body off the bed, puffing out his chest and looking sideways through half-lidded eyes. He keeps the leg closest to Colin flat and bends the other, trying to show off his package. 

Colin is now craning around in his seat, snapping photos from every angle. Cormac adjusts slightly between every one. Then he runs his finger down his chest erotically, and Colin’s finger hesitates before snapping the next one. Cormac undoes his top button, shifting his shirt around to show of his defined chest. Colin’s breathing very, very hard, and it’s audible over the crackling fireplace. Cormac slowly trails his hand lower and lower between shots, until he’s resting on his crotch.

Colin hesitates, and Cormac’s hand hesitates with him. Only when another flash goes off does Cormac draw his hand back, slipping it underneath the fabric. Colin gasps instantly, and the next flash comes just as fast. Cormac slowly strokes himself through his boxers while Colin takes pictures. The whole thing is incredibly exhilarating, and even without the ploy to seduce Colin, Cormac finds it hot. He’s always known he was a bit of a show off, and he always knew he liked to be watched. Somehow he’d never really considered doing it behind a camera before though, and now he’s wondering why. The attention he’s getting is intoxicating. Colin’s treating him like some fascinating, divine piece of art, and that makes Cormac almost immediately hard. When he undoes the top button of his trousers, Colin’s breath hitches, camera pointing downwards. 

Voice naturally husky, Cormac purrs, “Have you ever taken nudes before, Colin?”

Colin shakes his head, camera lowering a bit, brown eyes wide in awe. Cormac undoes his zipper very slowly, but doesn’t take himself out yet. No sense giving all his cards away at once. He asks, “Would you like to?” Colin nods. Giving that a moment to sink in first, Cormac murmurs, “Do you know how much models usually get paid...?”

“Oh!” Colin’s head instantly snaps back up to Cormac’s, shoulders hunching, “I-I don’t have any money...”

“Shh,” Cormac purrs, sitting up as slowly and elegantly as possible. “I didn’t say anything about money.”

He pats the bed beside himself with a raised eyebrow, and when Colin steps closer, trembling slightly and completely pink in the face, Cormac slips the camera out of his hands. Cormac places it down on the nightstand and explains, “Now... if you really want me to model for you, I’m sure we can work out another way for you to pay me for it...” He reaches out to gently hold Colin’s wrist, tugging Colin closer. Colin stumbles forward, and Cormac pulls him onto the bed, shifting over slightly to make room. He doesn’t give Colin even a second to settle down and get comfortable. 

He darts a hand to grab Colin’s light hair, and he presses their lips together. Colin instantly gasps into him, and that parts his soft lips, letting Cormac dive his tongue in. He didn’t mean to go this fast really, but Colin’s too delectable to resist. Colin doesn’t really seem to know what to do—his mouth hangs limply open while Cormac pillages it. Cormac doesn’t exactly mind—it just lets him show off his own skills more. 

Colin’s a lot smaller than Cormac. He’s short, and he’s thin, and he’s young, and he trembles as Cormac runs his other hand down Colin’s body. Cormac keeps the one hand fisted in his hair, not letting him go. The other trails down Colin’s shoulder, finding his frail wrist. Cormac pulls Colin’s hand forward, pressing it into the front of his trousers. Colin makes a squeaking noise into his mouth, obviously excited, but Cormac just swallows it. He grinds his cock hard into Colin’s soft palm, and he can feel Colin’s fingers shaking. When Cormac finally releases him, Colin’s eyes stay closed, his lips staying open, wet and red.

On sheer instinct, Cormac reaches behind himself and grabs the camera, pulling it up to snap a shot; the light makes Colin jerk his eyes open and blink. Cormac’s smirking—he thinks he’ll want a copy of that picture.


	2. Around

Colin, not at all to Cormac’s surprise, turned out to be a virgin. Cormac isn’t a total monster, and as coy as he tried to be, he couldn’t quite get Colin to ask for sex—the permission he would’ve wanted. Colin trembled and obediently lay down on the bed when Cormac put him there, but he scrunched his eyes closed and looked nothing short of terrified.

So Cormac stopped, until Colin whined, clearly wanting _more_ , and Cormac wrapped Colin’s small hand around his cock and pumped it, until he was coming in hot spurts across Colin’s chest. Then he kissed Colin a bit, cleaned him off, and let him take some more pictures. Cormac explained how post-orgasm photos often have more of a glow, and Colin seemed shocked to find that true. 

Now Cormac’s deciding when he wants the next time to be. Because there obviously has to be a next time, even if Cormac isn’t typically the sort to settle down with one person. He didn’t get as far as he wanted, and he knows he can go all the way, if he just gives it a little time. Men are definitely an option he’s decided he wants to pursue. And why try another target when he already has one so eager to please?

Colin’s nothing if not eager. Cormac thought he’d give Colin some time to recover and think after their first encounter, but apparently that wasn’t necessary. Colin showed up beside him at breakfast, timidly glowing and acting as if it would be his greatest wish for them to be friends. Cormac treated Colin just like he treats all of his admirers: offhandedly. But when the rest of the boys weren’t looking, Cormac whispered in Colin’s ear, “Later.”

And he told Colin the same thing at lunch and dinner, which Colin also showed up for. He’s still deciding now when the best time would be, while he lazily pumps his cock. All the usual silencing spells are up, of course, and the dormitory’s quiet. The moonlight streams in through the curtains of his four-poster, and Cormac wonders idly if he could manage to smuggle Colin into his bed. He’s used to jerking off before sleep, but the times when he’s had a girl around have been better. He sleeps so much better after sex. Cormac’s dated girls in Gryffindor before simply for the convenience; why should Colin be any different? They can be sneaky about it.

Colin’s hand would be better than Cormac’s. It wouldn’t be as experienced, of course, but he could guide it. It would be smaller and softer, delicate and almost pretty, and then he’d also have Colin’s pretty face to look at, staring rapturously down at his cock. Cormac’s hand goes a little faster as he pictures Colin kneeling between his legs, pumping him and leaning down, darting out a tiny, pink tongue to lap at his tip. Cormac’s sure he could get a blowjob with hardly any convincing; that would be a fair exchange for some nudes. And then he could grab Colin’s soft hair and shove him all the way down, nearly choking Colin, and brutally fuck Colin’s face. Just thinking about it makes Cormac moan. He arches off the bed as he comes suddenly, eyes closed so he can picture his cum sliding down Colin’s throat.

When he’s spent and breathing heavy, Cormac grins wide. Tomorrow, he won’t have to do this again.

* * *

Tomorrow, he runs into Colin during one of his spare periods. Colin’s in-between classes, hurrying off to Divination. Cormac chuckles, “What on Earth would you need Divination for?” And he ignores all of Colin’s startled rebuke, dragging him over to a broom cupboard.

Cormac looks both ways before deeming the hallway clear enough, and he tugs Colin in and shuts the door behind them. They’re thrown into total darkness, and Colin squeaks, “C-Cormac, I have class...”

“I have a hard-on,” Cormac retorts, sweeping down to capture a quick kiss. It only takes one step to shove Colin into the wall, and he slips Colin’s bag off his shoulder while ravaging his mouth. Colin gasps into it and moans loudly when Cormac shoves a leg between his thighs, hiking Colin up the wall. A few shallow thrusts, and Cormac really is hard, and he rubs his crotch into Colin like an animal. Cormac’s never been particularly graceful about wanting sex; he’s handsome enough that he doesn’t have to be. 

Kissing down to Colin’s neck, a place where Colin’s very sensitive, Cormac purrs, “Do you want to earn some pictures tonight?”

He sucks on Colin’s neck, so Colin can’t do anything but mumble breathlessly, “Oohhh, yes, yes please...”

Cormac grabs one of Colin’s wrists, bring it to his crotch. Colin rubs obediently, until Cormac opens his trousers. He lifts Colin’s hand and slips it inside, and Colin whimpers, fingers wrapping around Cormac’s full cock. Cormac groans and reaches into his pocket, tapping his wand. Silencing spells instantly envelop them, so Cormac’s free to growl raunchily, “Be a good boy and jerk me off, and I’ll let you take as many pictures of me as you want...”

Colin makes a needy, mewling sound and lifts his hand gently up and down with the same unsure hesitancy he seems to have for anything not camera-related. Cormac flattens his hand back over Colin’s, jerking it faster. Colin learns quickly, and Cormac rewards him with a hungry kiss. He can feel that Colin’s hard too, but he doesn’t want to switch the dynamic to that, yet—he keeps it about pleasuring himself. Colin doesn’t seem to mind. Colin tugs on Cormac’s cock while Cormac grinds hard into him and devours his mouth. Cormac’s hands roam all over Colin’s body, slipping under his robes and caressing every curve, eventually sliding down between Colin’s ass and the wall. Cormac squeezes hard—Colin gasps into his mouth. Colin has a great ass. Round, pert, and tight. Cormac kneads it and thrusts harder, until he’s shuddering and his balls are tightening. He quickly moves to pull Colin’s hand up, and he spurts all over Colin’s palm a minute later. 

He has Colin keep touching him until every last bit is out. Then he takes Colin’s wrist again and raises Colin’s hand to his mouth, breaking their kiss. For a moment, Colin doesn’t seem to know what to do. 

So Cormac purrs helpfully in his ear, “Lick it up, baby.”

He doesn’t need any light to know that Colin’s blushing furiously. Cormac can practically feel the heat radiating off his cheeks. For a moment, Cormac thinks he might’ve gone too far.

But Colin takes a shuddering breath, and the next minute, Cormac hears him softly lapping away at his sticky fingers, and Cormac digs out his wand to cast, “Lumos,” and watch.

Colin closes his eyes in embarrassment, but he finishes the load without pause. He sucks off all of his fingers, popping them one at a time into his mouth, his lips already swollen and wet. He licks in-between each digit and he runs his tongue along his palm, until his hand is slick with sweat, not cum. Then his eyes sliver open, and he looks up at Cormac deliciously, as if to ask if he did well.

Cormac likes to reward good behaviour. Colin’s like a new puppy that wants a treat, and Cormac reaches up to ruffle his hair, murmuring, “You did very well, Colin.”

Colin beams, almost bright enough to light up the whole closet.

Cormac lets him leave to run back to his class, which he’s definitely late for. Then Cormac cleans himself off and heads for the pitch—maybe he’ll do some flying.

* * *

Jennifer Yaxley is a pretty Slytherin girl with long blond hair and piercing blue eyes, and she’s one of the very few girls in his year that Cormac hasn’t dated. She corners him in the library one afternoon, holding a book hard against her plump chest. The top button of her shirt is undone, but Cormac finds making eye contact unusually easy. “Did you finish the Transfiguration essay?”

“Nope,” Cormac answers. He never does homework early, but he gets by. She’s never shown any interest in him before—probably the reason he’s never had any interest in her. Vaguely, he wonders what it is that’s changed that. 

Colin’s the only thing that’s different. He hasn’t officially announced anything, but he’s started spending most meals and a few evenings with Colin. Maybe she’s noticed. Maybe she’s jealous. Maybe she’s offended that he’d rather go after a fifth year boy than her, and that thought makes Cormac smirk to himself. 

She asks, “Do you want to work on it together, maybe? I haven’t finished it either, but all my housemates have, and I could use a second pair of eyes...”

Cormac finds himself saying, “No,” before he even realizes it. The girl looks utterly shocked; Cormac shrugs. He’s never been particularly elegant with his rejections. If someone’s not good enough for him, they’re not good enough for him. Yaxley’s good looking enough, but for whatever reason... Cormac just doesn’t feel like it. 

Cormac goes back to looking for his book, but he gives up halfway through. Now that he’s been basically propositioned, he’s got sex on the brain.

He wanders off to find Colin.


	3. Date

Colin shows up at breakfast flushed and bright-faced, even more so than usual. He sits across from Cormac with a dreamy stare, practically sighing, “Hogsmeade weekend today. And it hasn’t snowed yet! I can get some pictures of the before and after.”

Frowning, mostly because Colin’s excited over something that isn’t him, Cormac asks, “That’s all you’re going to do? Take pictures?”

Colin’s cheeks flush a little. “Oh... uhm, that’s what I usually do.”

Cormac rolls his eyes. “You don’t visit the shops?”

Looking a little flustered, Colin hunches his shoulders and looks down, as though he’s being chastised. He mumbles, “I... um... I dunno; I guess those are sort of for going with... with friends, or...” He looks up at Cormac pleadingly, chewing his bottom lip.

Cormac’s trademark smirk is instantly back in place, and he practically purrs, “Do you want me to take you to Hogsmeade, Colin?”

Colin nods eagerly, suddenly all smiles. Cormac’s chest puffs up. Obviously, everything is better with Cormac involved. Colin seems to completely understand this, and he asks, a little nervously and breathlessly, “Can I... can I take pictures of you there...?”

“Of course,” Cormac answers, before digging back into his cereal, like he was doing before Colin came along. Mouth full of whole-wheat hoops, Cormac manages, “I look stunning in any setting.”

Colin’s grin reaches his eyes; it’s clear he couldn’t agree more.

* * *

Colin shows up for their ‘date’ looking nothing short of adorable. He has to bring robes of course, because it’s cold, but underneath he wears clinging, dark trousers that look almost like leather, and a too-small, nearly sheer t-shirt. The red-and-gold scarf around his neck drapes over his back. It’s clear that he agonized over everything for hours; his hair is combed perfectly, and his lips are a little shinier than usual; Cormac thinks he might be wearing gloss. His bag is draped over his shoulder like usual, camera inside, and he rubs his arms nervously while Cormac approaches him. 

Cormac vanishes the robes in an instant (sending them back up to Gryffindor Tower) and casts a quick warming spell. Colin tenses, but shyly mumbles, “Thank you.”

Colin isn’t truly shy, really. He’s infuriatingly obnoxious in some situations, hopelessly withdrawn in others. Cormac seems to be able to make him flustered more times than not, and Cormac tugs Colin towards the path by the scarf. 

Cormac’s wearing Muggle jeans and a sweater: nothing special. He doesn’t need to dress up to look gorgeous, and Colin seems to agree. Colin tentatively wraps his thin arms around Cormac’s sleeve, and when Cormac doesn’t protest, Colin latches on like a particularly cute leech.

They pass plenty of Gryffindors on their way to Hogsmeade. They pass some classmates of Cormac’s from other houses too, but he doesn’t pay them much mind. He’s never been particularly concerned with what others think of him, probably because he assumes it’s always good. Even if Colin is a boy, he’s a very good looking one right now, and Cormac does think Colin looks good on his arm. Colin’s lips shimmer while he talks, and Cormac tries very hard not to picture them parted around his cock. 

When they hit Hogsmeade, Colin spots a ladder leaning against the Three Broomsticks. He instantly chirps, “Oh, perfect!” And he drags Cormac over to it, placing the camera on a high rung and pressing some buttons. 

Then he steps back and latches back onto Cormac’s arm, leaning his head on Cormac’s shoulder. He says, “Cheese.” He sounds like he’s never been happier in his whole life, and Cormac grins smugly. 

As soon as the flash goes off, Colin’s nearly giddy. He runs back over to retrieve his camera, and he says a tad breathlessly, “Sorry! Where do you want to go?”

Cormac’s idly wondering whether buying a room at the Three Broomsticks or not is worth it. Probably not. Colin’s a cheap date; it isn’t necessary. Cormac isn’t a cheap boyfriend, but at the moment, he’s more than happy to buy Colin some treats instead.

They go to Honeydukes first, and Cormac buys several packs of Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum and sugar quills for Colin. ...Mostly because he likes seeing Colin’s mouth in motion. Colin’s ecstatic, like he’s never had anyone buy him a present before. Or maybe just no one as handsome as Cormac. Cormac sucks in all the gratitude and eventually tugs Colin out the door. They visit a number of other places but spend the most time at the Shrieking Shack, Colin taking all sorts of photos of Cormac posed dramatically in front of it and up against the fence. Colin makes Cormac feel like a super model, and there’s nothing more endearing than someone totally enamoured with him. When Cormac asks if Colin wants to do anything else, Colin happily insists he could take photographs of Cormac all day.

* * *

Colin says, “Thank you,” for the Butterbeer about a thousand times. He sips at it with too much tongue, licking it like a kitten with milk. He says he gets the flavour more that way. He ran out of film a while ago, and now they’re just... spending time together. 

Cormac’s running his foot along Colin’s leg under the table, and Colin’s biting his lip and trying to follow the conversation. Cormac’s explaining what he’s going to do when he graduates—a plan which occasionally changes. “...But I think I’d make an excellent Keeper for the Tornadoes, and given my connections, I imagine I’ll get in.”

Colin breathes, “Wow,” sounding genuinely impressed. 

It isn’t Cormac’s usual style, but he actually finds himself asking, “And you?” Then his lips quirk, and he adds, “As if it isn’t obvious...”

Blushing, Colin nods. “Y-yeah, a photographer... if I can manage.”

“You’ll manage,” Cormac says bluntly, between sips. “I’ve seen your work—you’re good.” ...Although, that might be because he’s the model. 

Colin still lights up like a star. “Thank you. I... used to have more tenacity for it. It’s a hard industry.”

“You’ll do fine,” Cormac repeats. 

Colin buries his blush in his Butterbeer. Cormac hits the end of his and peers at the bottom, wondering if he should order more. He’s hungry, but... not for that. He’s still playing with Colin’s leg, and he puts his glass down with a heavy thunk. They’re in the Hog’s Head, because there’s too much traffic in the Three Broomsticks. They can get some privacy here. ...And it’s slow, and no one will check the bathrooms. Cormac climbs out of their table, reaching a hand over. Colin looks up at him, then down at the remaining Butterbeer.

“You can finish it after,” Cormac tells him. “C’mon.”

Colin tilts his head, as if to ask ‘after what?’ But he gets out of his seat and takes Cormac’s hand, and Cormac weaves them between the dusty tables. There’s an old hag at the back whose eyes linger too long, which Cormac can’t blame her for. Colin swings his hips a bit too much when he walks; he’s always full of excitement. It’s been mildly torturous for Cormac all day, and he’s been looking forward to this.

The Hog’s Head bathroom isn’t much. There’re only three stalls, and they’re all cramped, and there’s toilet paper on the floor, and one of the ceiling lights is burnt out. The mirror’s cracked, and the door doesn’t have a lock—Cormac takes out his wand and taps it. Then he grabs Colin’s collar without a word and drags him into the middle stall. Colin squeaks but follows as obediently as ever. His bag is still over his shoulder. The stall is cramped—Cormac drops the toilet seat and closes their stall door, locking it too, just in case.

Then he sits down on the seat and spreads his legs—pushing Colin down to the floor. Colin’s bag slumps over his shoulder, and he looks up at Cormac with as wide eyes as always. 

“I had a good day today,” Cormac says. “You were a very good date.” He knows he sounds a little condescending, but that’s part of the game. Cormac’s putting Colin in his place. Cormac pets Colin’s head affectionately and croons, “Do you know what would make it even better?”

Colin nervously shifts on his knees, looking sideways. After a minute he mumbles, “It’s dirty in here...” Which is a fair point; Cormac does deserve better. But there’s often an element of fun to lesser dangers.

Cormac bends down to trace his tongue along Colin’s ear—Colin shivers deliciously. Cormac holds his head in place, thumbing his cheek, and purrs in a very low voice, “I want you to be dirty, Colin. I want you to be _filthy_ for me...” Cormac hasn’t tried degrading dirty talk before, so it’s a bit of a gamble, but he stays light and it has the desired effect. Colin shivers again, eyes sliding closed, and his lips part in a silent gasp. Cormac nibbles on his earlobe and continues, “Haven’t I been good to you all day? It’s because I like you, Colin. I bought you all those treats because you’re such a good boy for me. But don’t you think the day would be even better if you had one more treat...?”

Colin moans. Cormac chuckles and presses one hand against the back of his head, pushing him closer. Cormac thrusts his hips out, holding Colin only a few centimeters away from his crotch, and Colin blinks his heavy eyes open, dilated and clearly as turned on as Cormac is. Cormac still waits for him to take a deep breath and mumble, “I... I’ve never done this before...” His brows twitch; for a moment, he looks genuinely worried that his inexperience will ruin things.

But Cormac insists, “That’s okay.” He tugs Colin closer still—Colin’s leaning forward, back arched beautifully. Cormac keeps petting his hair, like soothing a skittish animal. Colin licks his lips—they’re already shining from the gloss and the drinks, looking so fuckable it should be a crime. “I’m sure you’ll be _very_ good at it, with a skilled mouth like yours... you look like you were made to suck cock; it’ll be worth it just for me to see it even if you didn’t move at all. ...But I’m sure you’ll move, because you’re such an eager little thing...”

Colin’s face is screwed up, almost conflicted. Maybe he doesn’t know if that’s a compliment or not. But he licks his lips, and he looks up at Cormac, nodding. 

Infinitely pleased, Cormac pecks Colin’s forehead while he unzips his trousers, massaging himself through the fabric. When he pulls back, he gestures for Colin’s hands—Colin obediently raises them.

Cormac moves them to the front of his trousers, and Colin, always the fast learner, takes Cormac out with trembling fingers. Cormac moans instantly—his cock looks so big in Colin’s tiny hands, and Colin looks at it with so much _lust_ that it’s intoxicating. For a minute, Colin just idly thumbs the base like Cormac’s taught him to do before. Cormac knows it’s more than that—he can see the want for _a picture_ in Colin’s eyes. Then he slowly pushes his head forward, sticking out his tongue. 

He gives it a soft lick before pulling away, blinking up at Cormac. Cormac grins appreciatively, and Colin smiles back. Colin turns back to the large cock in his hand, leaning forward for another lick. He doesn’t seem to mind the taste; once his confidence goes up, he goes back again and again for more. When Cormac moans, it seems to spur Colin on; Colin presses his pink tongue to the base and drags it all the way up to the tip, holding the other side flat against it with his hand. Cormac moans again, and Colin starts lapping at it enthusiastically, nuzzling his face into it and breathing in deeply. 

Cormac wants _more_. But he doesn’t want to deter Colin, so he groans, “That’s very good, you’re doing so well...” before he asks, “...Now why don’t you suck on it a little?”

Colin nods and parts his lips, wrapping them around the side. He’s carefully with his teeth without even needing to be told, and he sucks on the sensitive skin, like he’s going to give a hickey. It isn’t what Cormac meant, but it still feels amazing. His fingers are tangling absently through Colin’s hair, and he tugs Colin up—Colin trails kisses and tongue and suction all the way up to the head. Colin keeps his hands around Cormac’s base, holding him upright, gently cupping his balls. Cormac holds Colin’s head over the tip; Colin opens even wider. 

Cormac doesn’t need to push Colin down. Colin wraps his lips around the head of his own accord, sucking it up into his mouth right away. Cormac groans, and Colin runs his tongue around it, pressing tentatively into the slit and tracing little circles, exploring and experimenting. He sucks the whole time, just a bit, but it’s still amazing. His cheeks are flushed, his lashes down, his pupils dilated—he looks like something out of one of Cormac’s dirty magazines. After a moment, Cormac taps the back of Colin’s neck gently. It’s a signal he wants Colin to go lower, but he doesn’t want to choke Colin. Colin looks up at Cormac with complete innocence painted all over his face: the picture of debauchery. 

Cormac thinks that if Colin doesn’t make it as a photographer, he could always be a porn star. He’s a natural at sucking cock, and he clearly knows his way around a camera. He tries to go a bit lower down, just a tiny bit at a time, tongue flat along the bottom. It takes every bit of willpower Cormac has not to wildly buck up into Colin’s mouth. He can feel Colin struggling around him, hot and hard, teeth scraping slightly. But Colin’s as open as he can be, and he does his best. 

Colin can’t go all the way—not on his first time. Cormac doesn’t want to make him, even though he’d probably look great at the base. Colin looks up pleadingly when he gets about halfway down—his eyes are slightly watery. He looks like he desperately wants to try and take more, but he just can’t. Cormac can feel the back of Colin’s throat against his tip, and he isn’t cruel enough to force his way down. He tugs at the back of Colin’s hair, signaling that Colin can go back up. 

Colin does, breathing heavily though his nose. He doesn’t go off completely, but his lips slide back to just the head, and he mouths it slowly while he regains his breathing. Then he slides back down, a little faster this time, and when he gets as far as he can go, he sucks _hard_. His cheeks completely hollow out, and Cormac throws his head back, moaning. His hips are trembling from the effort of staying down—he can’t wait until he trains Colin properly at this, until he can fuck Colin’s mouth any time with reckless abandon. Colin sucks on Cormac’s cock like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, and before long, he’s fucking himself on it, bobbing up and down like a pro. 

If the camera had any film left, Cormac would push Colin off and come all over him, taking a myriad of snapshots. But it isn’t, and they’re in public. So he fists tight in Colin’s hair when he feels his balls tightening, jerking and holding Colin down. Cormac explodes a second later—Colin makes a startled choking sound. Cormac holds him still, coming in short, hot bursts down his hot throat. Colin stills and takes it, swallowing awkwardly.

Cormac doesn’t let go until a few seconds after, and then Colin pulls off, spluttering and wiping at his mouth. Cormac takes a moment just to luxuriating in the afterglow. Then he pulls out his wand and cleans himself up, tucking himself back in. Colin lifts up on his knees, one hand on the toilet seat between Cormac’s legs, leaning forward. 

Cormac moves to meet Colin halfway. He can taste himself on Colin’s lips, but he still kisses Colin hard and deep. There’s a Butterbeer flavour underneath, and Colin looks so inexplicably dreamy and content that Cormac feels like he’s won a grand prize.


	4. After

The Room of Requirements is an odd sort of Greek-contemporary mix today. Cormac posed a bit in a toga, and now he’s completely naked. He lounges across the settee on his stomach, chin in one hand, smirking towards the lens. Colin is flittering around him, snapping pictures from every conceivable angle, and Cormac lazily switches positions every few shots. When he rolls onto his back, Colin hesitates. Cormac throws his hands beneath his head and bends one leg, flexing all his muscles. He coaxes, “Go on.”

Colin takes a moment just to admire, and then he lifts the camera, stepping back to take one long, full body picture. Cormac feels like an Adonis being properly worshiped. Idly, Cormac wonders if Colin ever uses any other models, but he quickly dismisses the thought. There shouldn’t be a need for any others. Cormac’s the best there is, and he can be everything Colin needs. 

Cormac closes his eyes peacefully, head tilting up. The sounds of clicking and shifting footsteps wash over him, and he almost dozes off. But Colin taps his shoulder, squealing excitedly, “Er... could I maybe get you to lean against the column over there?” Cormac twists around to look at where Colin’s gesturing.

Then he decides, “Sure.” He stretches when he sits up, smirking as Colin quickly takes a few more pictures. Cormac strolls across the cold tile to the marble wall, crossing his arms and leaning back against the column. His hips jut out proudly—Colin bites his lip as he flashes some more pictures. 

Cormac’s a good model. He’s mostly quiet, luxuriating in the thrill of the attention. He follows all of Colin’s instructions, and he provides his own poses, and he looks damn good in every one. A few times they dress and leave the room, only to come in to a different setting. They’re in a sort of woodland cottage by the end of it, Cormac stretched out on a bearskin rug in front of the fire. The flames cast a gorgeous orange glow around him, and he stays a little too close, letting the sweat bead up around his muscles. He slides one hand down to his cock, and Colin moans and clicks faster while Cormac strokes himself. Colin keeps stepping closer.

At one point, Cormac grabs his ankle. Colin squeaks like a cornered animal, and Cormac drags him closer—Colin hops forward to oblige. Cormac puts Colin’s foot down on his other side, so that Colin’s standing over him. Colin looks down through his lens, cheeks red around the edges of it.

Cormac settles back in and grins winningly. Colin takes a few shots, and then he crouches a little lower, getting some close-ups. Cormac reaches out one hand to climb up Colin’s stomach, grabbing Colin’s tie so he can’t stand back up. Colin lowers the camera. 

Cormac takes it out of his hands, muttering, “You know, I think I’d like a few photos too.”

“Oh,” Colin starts. “I... I’m not really a model...”

“You look good enough naked,” Cormac insists, already tugging at Colin’s buttons. Colin’s cheeks go even redder, but he doesn’t protest. “Just a few,” Cormac says. Because he doesn’t need a lot of pictures; usually when he’s horny, he’ll want Colin in person, and he’s sure he’ll get Colin in person. The raunchy photos he’s going to take will be just for emergencies. 

Colin climbs off Cormac, sitting down in the furry rug. He helps get his shirt off and lets Cormac take off his trousers, and he lies down beside Cormac when Cormac pushes him there. He doesn’t pose like Cormac does when the camera starts going again, but he smiles sheepishly and still looks great. 

When he’s done, Cormac carefully puts the camera aside, and he crawls over to Colin like the feral beast Colin makes him.

* * *

When Cormac’s last dorm-mate falls asleep, Cormac heads back down to the common room. Colin’s obediently waiting where he was told, finishing off an essay for Herbology. Cormac waits for him to pack up and put his stuff away, and then Cormac tugs him by the wrist up the spiral stairs. 

Colin looks eagerly around the seventh year dormitory, as though he’s being let into something secret and marvelous. Cormac puts a finger to his lips—they need to be quiet—the silencing spells are only around his bed. Colin nods and follows over to the four-poster. As soon as the curtains close behind them, Cormac’s on Colin, smashing their lips together. 

There’s an excitement in Colin every time they do this: like every time Cormac picks him Colin’s surprised and overjoyed. It puffs up Cormac’s chest and goes straight to his head, and he knows Colin won’t mind. Cormac’s built to be a star, and Colin’s built to be a groupie. Even if it isn’t the typical relationship dynamic, there’s something fascinating and hot about it, and it holds Cormac’s interest in a way others never have. There’s a wild spark between their bodies. He doesn’t give Colin any chance to breathe—he just starts attacking Colin’s clothing, peeling off his robes and tie.

Colin helps divest himself of everything, and then they’re unbuttoning Cormac’s shirt, and Colin mumbles, “I... I don’t have any pajamas with me...”

“I sleep nude,” Cormac says, like it’s obvious. “You can too.”

Colin bites his lip and nods, looking like he’s trying very hard to restrain his giddiness. Soon Cormac has a pile of clothes to kick under his mattress, and he shifts back up to get under the covers, holding them up for Colin to join. Colin does and immediately turns to Cormac, but Cormac pushes him the other way. Cormac wraps around his body, chest to back, pulling Colin tight against him. Colin writhes and moans at the contact; Cormac’s already semi-hard and pressing into Colin’s tight ass. They fit together like they were made to be this way; Cormac kisses Colin’s shoulder.

Colin doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. They curl and twitch against his chest, and Cormac runs his all over Colin’s body, touching him everywhere. Colin’s skin is all smooth, all soft, all warm. Cormac kisses Colin’s ear and nibbles it lightly, hands slipping around Colin’s stomach. There’s a tuft of golden hair that Cormac pets and trails through, until he reaches Colin’s pulsing cock. It jumps excitedly as soon as Cormac touches it, and Colin instantly gasps. Cormac chuckles and uses his other hand to hold Colin’s chest tight, grinding them fiercely together. He plays with Colin’s nipples while he wraps his fingers around Colin’s dick. It’s smaller than Cormac’s, but it still feels full and perfect, warm and deliciously alive. It only takes a few pumps for Colin’s tip to start spilling precum—Cormac slicks it down the base and uses it for lube.

To be honest, Cormac’s never jerked off another boy before. He’s never even thought about it. Even when he fucks girls, he isn’t usually one to retaliate. He just touches everything he wants to and gets himself off. But he doesn’t want that with Colin, and especially in a position like this, it isn’t that different from jerking off himself. A few more strokes, and Colin’s a writhing mess, panting and whimpering like the wanton thing Cormac wants. Cormac reaches down to squeeze his balls, and Colin gasps, “C-Cormac!”

Cormac nuzzles into the back of Colin’s hair and resumes stroking properly. It doesn’t take long for Colin’s whole body to tense, arching beautifully and screaming his release, shooting out across Cormac’s hand and the blankets. Cormac lifts up on his elbow to see Colin’s face mid-orgasm, and he instantly wishes they’d brought the camera. Colin looks utterly rapturous. His mouth is open wide, his cheeks are pink, his eyes are barely open, and his bangs are a sweat-slicked mess on his forehead. He tries to say Cormac’s name again, but sound seems to fail him. 

Then he collapses in Cormac’s arms, and Cormac reaches through his curtains to the nightstand. He grabs his wand and casts the usual cleaning spell. Colin weakly mumbles, “Sorry.” He sounds shy, and he buries his face in the pillow. 

“Don’t be.” Cormac settles back in against him, pulling him up tight. Colin purrs contentedly, fitting just right again, just like he should. “You did well.”

Colin unburies his face and glances tentatively over his shoulder. Cormac kisses his cheek. It’s dark, but he can still see Colin light up. “...Thanks.”

Then, without even having to be asked, he suddenly rolls around in Cormac’s arms. He shuffles under the blankets, and Cormac rolls onto his back. He wants to fall asleep curled around Colin, but he’ll definitely take this in the meantime. 

Cormac doesn’t stop smiling all night.

* * *

“I’m going to move out next year,” Cormac boasts, because he’s been saving the money every summer, and his parents can afford to help. “I’m gonna get a nice pad in London—probably a two bedroom. Something with a fireplace so I can Floo around and shit.”

“That’s so cool,” Colin sighs, because he’s insanely impressed with everything Cormac does. “Is it going to be like a loft?”

“Right out of a magazine.” Cormac nods as he stuffs another bagel into his mouth—Colin look dreamily off into the distance, like he’s already imagining how Cormac will decorate it. Once he’s chewed enough to talk around it, Cormac insists, “You’ll have to come over sometime.”

“Really?” Shock mixes in with Colin’s ecstasy, and Cormac wonders absently if it’s just him acting oddly honoured as usual or if it’s more than that. It belatedly occurs to Cormac that Colin might not have thought this would continue next year, both over the summer and once Colin’s in school and Cormac isn’t. Cormac’s face scrunches up while he thinks about it—that hadn’t occurred to him either.

Usually, Cormac doesn’t make commitments. But when he pictures his own apartment, he can’t _not_ picture Colin popping up around it, lying in his bed or stepping into his shower, or maybe cooking him breakfast in a spacious kitchenette. Naked, of course, with just an apron. If they were in Cormac’s apartment, there wouldn’t ever be a need for clothes. He could have Colin’s photographs blown up and put them all over the walls—gorgeous portraits of Cormac’s body. Colin would probably love it, and Colin would be such a good boyfriend to come home to. 

Cormac just says, “Of course,” and finishes his bagel. He can’t help but think that dinners would be better just between the two of them, alone at his table, not in the busy, bustling hall. Cormac’s bored with school anyway, but this is really making him realize how anxious he is to graduate. 

Colin will take a few years, but he’ll catch up. It won’t be so hard—Cormac can get him a portkey and sneak him out all the time. Cormac can fuck Colin senseless all over his brand new apartment, then ship Colin back whenever he gets bored.

Colin looks into his pumpkin juice and mutters, “I wish I could get an apartment. I have to share a room with Dennis, and it sucks.”

Cormac’s a dog. He doesn’t at all hesitate to picture Colin wrapped around his younger brother, both whining about wanting to be in Cormac’s bed. The thought makes him grin, but he says condolingly, “That sucks.” ...He’s met Dennis once or twice and doesn’t have any interest in him. But Cormac will jump to picture Colin naked over anything, in any sort of kinky way. He would, though, prefer Colin in _his_ bed over the summer.

Colin nods. “I love Hogwarts. I mean, I loved it before, but... now I really do.”

Cormac grins. Naturally, he makes everything better. He grabs another bagel and says, “You’ll like my place better.”

“I bet,” Colin chirps. 

Cormac shifts his foot forward, hitting and resting against Colin’s.


	5. First

Cormac isn’t particularly great with his schoolwork, but he’s more than adequate on problems two years below him. They’re in the back of the library now, in a table tucked behind the shelves. Colin’s struggling with Potions, and Cormac says, “No, you’re supposed to use Wiggenweld for that.”

“Oh!” Colin’s quill scratches over a few words, and he fills it back in properly. He looks at Cormac, and Cormac nods. 

“Yeah, that looks good, then.”

Smiling broadly, Colin chirps, “Thanks! ...I really appreciate you helping me with this, Cormac.”

“Don’t mention it.” Except that Cormac likes when Colin mentions it; it puffs him up. Part of the fun is knowing he’s older and wiser and having Colin look up to him. Colin adds the next paragraph without too much trouble, and Cormac just sort of supervises.

And daydreams about Colin really _looking up_ to him. Perhaps from under the table. Between his legs. Because Cormac’s not into patience, he leans a bit closer, dropping his hand onto Colin’s thigh. Colin looks up immediately, quill stilling. Cormac raises an eyebrow, grinning, and trails his hand down to Colin’s crotch, squeezing it lightly. 

Colin gasps, hand flying to cover his mouth. They’re surrounded by bookshelves, and there’s no one to see them. Cormac leans closer, purring quietly into Colin’s ear, “Want to show me just how much you appreciate it?”

Colin mumbles through his fingers, “We’re in the library...”

“It’s a big table; no one will see you.”

Colin looks to both sides before twisting in his chair and checking over his shoulder. There isn’t anyone there, either. Then he looks back at Cormac, who looks pointedly at the table and back at Colin. Biting his lip, Colin glances at the (almost finished) essay. Then he nods slowly. He shifts his chair back as quietly as possible, and his head swivels rapidly in both directions as he climbs under. Cormac leans back in his chair with a smug grin; he always gets what he wants.

He spreads his legs and bites off a groan as Colin shuffles up between them, hands shaking on Cormac’s zipper. Cormac reaches a hand under to thumb Colin’s cheek affectionately. Encouraged, Colin takes out Cormac’s cock.

Then he licks his lips, red and pouting as always. Colin gives the shaft a few licks before hovering over the top, slipping the head inside. Cormac bites his cheek to stifle a moan, face screwing up. He slumps back, trying to get as much of a good view as possible. The shadow of the table swallows Colin up, but his blush shines through. He starts bobbing up and down without having to be told, taking a bit more every time and slicking it up. Cormac keeps one hand loose against the back of Colin’s head—he just generally likes _touching_ Colin. Colin seems to like sucking his cock; there’s a heavy lust in those brown eyes that couldn’t be artificial. 

When Colin gets about halfway down, Cormac grunts quietly, “Play with my balls.” Colin tries to nod, and he reaches up to tug at Cormac’s sac, gently rolling them around his palm. Colin’s getting good at this—a natural talent. It doesn’t take long for Cormac to be on edge; Colin gets three quarters down and _sucks_ for all he’s worth. Cormac pistons his hips forward a bit, muttering, “Yeah, take that, you love it...”

Colin blushes like he always does when Cormac talks even remotely dirty. A minute later, Cormac’s balls are tightening, and he bursts inside Colin’s mouth. Colin makes a surprised spluttering sound, but he’s careful to keep his mouth open, and he takes it. Cormac holds Colin’s head in place, gritting his teeth not to moan, and he thrusts into Colin’s throat until it’s all out. 

He doesn’t let Colin pull away until he hears Colin swallow. Then he lets go, and Colin slips off. 

Cormac takes a second to dig out his wand, cleaning up and tucking back in. Colin licks his lips and wipes them on the back of his hand, looking wonderfully debauched. Cormac reaches down to help him back into his seat. Then Cormac leans over, kissing him hard.

* * *

It’s not a Gryffindor match, but they’re watching anyway. Quidditch is in Cormac’s blood, and he cheers Ravenclaw on as they zoom across the pitch. He’s surrounded by a thick knot of red and yellow done up blue and grey, cheering and jeering at different players. Colin’s standing next to him, camera going off wildly. Slytherin gets the Quaffle and Cormac curses loudly at them. He can feel Colin jump at his foul language, but he doesn’t turn it down. Quidditch matches are meant to be earsplitting and boisterous. When Cormac graduates and gets on a professional team, he imagines Colin will be his personal paparazzi, sending photos to all the big magazines. 

Slytherin scores, and Cormac stops shouting profanities long enough to yell at Colin, over the general din, “What’re you taking pictures of them winning for?” 

Colin’s camera lowers. There’s a roar in Cormac’s ears that won’t go away. His dorm-mates are all around them, and they’re louder than ever. This is their last year, and Gerald’s got his whole face painted blue, and Leonard has a fake raven perched on his head like a hat. Colin sticks out like a sore thumb amongst them, small and still red and yellow. Colin shrugs and mumbles something that Cormac can’t hear. 

Cormac shakes his head and looks back at the match—Ravenclaw’s got the Quaffle now. They score and the crowd goes wild. 

Cormac turns to Colin and grabs his head, knocking the camera out of the way to smash their lips together.

* * *

Colin got his essay back. A perfect ‘O.’ He credits Cormac for it, even though Cormac’s sure Colin would’ve done fine on his own. Cormac helps him with his Transfiguration homework, and then he pulls Colin up the stairs, even though Leonard’s on his bed with the curtains open. He doesn’t say anything—Cormac getting laid isn’t anything new.

Colin blushes like the virgin he is, but Cormac just puts the curtains and silencing spells up around them like it’s nothing. He divests Colin slowly of his clothing, stripping down right after, making out the whole time and touching every bit of skin. Cormac lays Colin down in the mattress like a new bride, nestling his head safely in the pillows and straddling his waist. Cormac leans over him, careful not to crush him, and holds Colin’s hands. Colin’s such a good boy. He lies still and kisses back timidly, then fervently, until Cormac parts their lips to kiss a trail down Colin’s chin. 

Cormac kisses Colin’s jaw, his throat, his shoulder. Cormac dips his tongue into Colin’s collarbone and trails it down his chest, veering off to suck on Colin’s nipple. It pebbles almost instantly, and Cormac rolls it around in his mouth, and Colin’s breath hitches, his body arching into it. Cormac holds him down and licks over to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment. He worships Colin’s body with his tongue like Colin worships his with the camera, and he finds he likes this role just as much. Colin doesn’t have Cormac’s strong muscles or golden skin, but his lithe curves and pale complexion are just as good. Cormac licks down to Colin’s bellybutton, sticking in his tongue and loving the way Colin moans. 

When he reaches Colin’s cock, Colin’s voice cracks in a gasp. It’s adorable and incredibly erotic, and Cormac kiss his way through the short, light curls around Colin’s crotch. He strokes Colin with one hand and shifts past it, only pressing one lingering, chaste kiss to the base. Then he licks his way down Colin’s balls, and he lifts one of Colin’s legs over his shoulder. Colin obediently lifts the other one, giving Cormac full access and an amazing view. Colin’s tiny hole is possibly the most alluring thing Cormac’s ever seen. It’s pink and puckered, and Cormac pulls Colin’s ass cheeks apart to get a better look. Cormac licks his lips—it’s going to be a challenge to get in there.

Just to be sure, he glances up, asking, “You trust me, don’t you?”

Colin nods and instantly says, “Of course.”

Smirking, Cormac nods. “...I’m going to touch you a bit, and then, if you’re really good, I’m going to fuck you, okay?”

Colin goes beet red, right to his ears, but he nods.

“It might hurt at first, since you’re new to this,” Cormac continues. He pumps Colin’s cock with one hand for a distraction, and it seems to be working. He pulls his palm back to spit in it, and then gets a firmer grip, and Colin gasps. Cormac gives it a little squeeze. “It’ll feel good, though, if you relax. I’m really good at it, so you don’t need to worry.”

Looking overwhelmed, Colin moans happily, “You’re good at _everything._ ”

The smirk on Cormac’s face nearly reaches his ears. He knows he’s a damn good boyfriend, but it’s wonderful to have someone that actually appreciates it. To get started, Cormac blows out across Colin’s hole—it spasms deliciously, and Colin squeaks.

Colin makes the best noises. Especially in bed. It isn’t hard to make him writhe, isn’t hard to make him moan. Cormac leans forward and sticks out his tongue—lightly tapping Colin’s twitching hole. Colin instantly shrieks—when Cormac looks up, his head is thrown back and his hands are fisting tightly in the pillow. 

Cormac presses his tongue in harder, clutching Colin’s cock out of the way. Colin’s already hard in his hand, and Cormac doesn’t stroke it anymore, just holds it firm. He covers Colin’s hole in long, broad strokes, getting it wet, and then he opens his mouth and kisses it—Colin’s thighs are trembling with the effort not to move. 

To be honest, Cormac’s never done this before. He’s thought about it though, because he’s got a dick, and he’s thought about every raunchy possibility out there. It’s hard to find someone with an asshole worth sucking, but Colin has it. Every time Cormac stops to just admire it, he’s overwhelmed with how fucking _hot_ Colin looks. His wet, puckered hole is gorgeous, and Cormac feels like it’s calling out to his dick. He dives back in to press his tongue hard against it—the furrowed muscles open up around him. Colin wails, and Cormac pistons his tongue in and out. He gets farther and farther, stretching it wider and wider, mouth open as far as it’ll go. When he pulls out, Colin whines immediately, looking down. Cormac replaces his tongue with a finger—Colin winces but takes it. Gently moving his finger in and out, Cormac mumbles, “Get my wand, okay? It’s on the nightstand.”

Colin reaches through the curtains without looking. Then he pulls Cormac’s wand through and holds it out—Cormac takes it and straightens up. He keeps his other hand inside Colin, and he’s slipping in a second finger in no time. He taps Colin’s stomach for a quick spell—Colin’s eyes go wide. The tight channel around Cormac’s finger opens a bit and slicks up, a warm liquid dribbling out. He keeps scissoring it apart though—he wants to make sure he doesn’t hurt Colin. Another spell and his own dick’s wet, and he pumps it a few times to keep it hard. 

Cormac tosses his wand aside on the bed, shuffling up and picking up Colin’s legs again. He has to bend them over his shoulders one at a time, because he now has three fingers knuckle-deep in Colin’s ass. Colin stares at him and asks quietly, “W... what about a condom...?”

“Pfft,” Cormac scoffs, because he’s fucked Muggle girls before and that concept still blows his mind. “I don’t want to put a bag over my dick, Colin.”

Colin’s eyebrows knit together, and he squirms. Cormac gives him a mildly exasperated expression until he says what’s clearly on his mind. “B-but... protection...”

Cormac twists his finger inside Colin as a sort of cruel punishment—Colin gasps and throws his head to the side. Grinning, Cormac laughs, “Are you saying I’m dirty? It’s not like I’m not going to get you pregnant...”

Whimpering, Colin shakes his head. He mumbles, “Sorry,” cheeks red, even though Cormac can tell he’s still thinking about it. 

Bending down bends Colin’s legs, until his knees hit his shoulders, and Cormac says quietly, done teasing, “It’s okay. Protection spells are built into that lube spell I used—it’ll work better than Muggle contraception anyway.”

Colin first looks shocked, then relieved. He’s made it through five years, and he’s still learning things about the wizarding world. Every time Cormac gets to show him something, it’s a wonderful memory all over again, something Cormac locks away. If he ever leaves Colin—which he’s now wondering if he ever will—he’ll have a wealth of good memories that all his other relationships combined could never reach.

Cormac doesn’t want to lean back up—he wants to kiss Colin senseless. But he also wants to see his cock disappear inside Colin, and that spurs him on. He sits back up and slips his fingers out, and Colin whines. Cormac presses his tip to the stretched ring, hoping the spells will be enough to make it not hurt. Colin’s chewing his bottom lip, and Cormac asks, “Are you ready?”

Opening his mouth, it looks like Colin’s going to say yes. Then he shakes his head suddenly, and darts his hands up to Cormac; Cormac has to lean a bit forward for them to touch him. When Colin’s fingertips are on Cormac’s shoulders, he nods and murmurs, “Okay.”

Cormac thrusts forward shallowly, just hard enough to force his tip inside. As soon as it pops in, Colin throws his head back, mouth wide, and Cormac leans down so those nimble fingers can clutch at him. Cormac grits his teeth and starts pressing in a bit more, centimeter by centimeter, crawling forward. It feels absolutely amazing. There’s a pleasure rush that runs straight up his spine. Even with the stretching spell, Colin feels too tight to be real. 

He only gets about a third of the way in before Colin makes a pained sound, face scrunching up. Cormac stops immediately, panting heavily. He’s never, ever stopped during sex before, but he does now. He always would if explicitly told, but with Colin, the quick sound is enough. He leans down to kiss Colin’s forward, and he grits out, “Relax,” while fighting the urge to fuck Colin into the mattress. 

He’ll do that someday, of course. Once he’s trained Colin to take his cock like a proper boyfriend. But right now he’s going to go slow and careful—he’s going to treat Colin right. Colin wraps his arms tightly around Cormac, clinging and trembling. He shifts his bottom, and Cormac grunts. After a moment, he mumbles, “O... okay... you can... you can go...”

Cormac doesn’t need to be told twice. He starts slowly pressing forward again, even though Colin’s ass doesn’t seem to want to take it. The heat is overwhelming, and the pressure makes it hard to see straight. Cormac presses on, because he knows it’ll feel even better once he’s fully inside. He watches Colin’s face and kisses it softly, until Colin blinks his eyes open, looking up at Cormac. Those brown eyes are _so_ beautiful that Cormac can hardly stand it. He kisses Colin right between them, and he strokes the sides of Colin’s face, cupping it and cherishing it. When he finally, _finally_ gets all the way in, he can’t hold back his moan. Colin screws up his face again, but Cormac’s almost too horny to care.

Cormac forces himself to shift though, before he melts into an animal. He presses tentatively forward, then angles his body differently, then slides out a bit, then pushes back in, until Colin cries out suddenly, hands clawing in Cormac’s back. Cormac memorizes that angle and starts to pull out.

When he gets to the head, he immediately slams back in, brushing the right spot and making Colin scream. Cormac pulls back out and does it again, and Colin looks like a gorgeous, ruined angel, pale and perfect, light and beautiful, debauched and destroyed. Cormac starts wildly thrusting into him, unable to help it. Cormac wants to go slow. He wants to _make love._ But Colin’s too fucking hot, and he’s too amazingly tight, and Cormac also just generally wants to fuck him hard. Colin doesn’t seem to mind. He pants like a dog and holds on tight, desperate and needy, ankles tense against the small of Cormac’s back. Cormac pounds into him, over and over.

It’s easily the best sex Cormac has ever had, hands down. Deflowering virgins always is, but there’s something about it being _Colin_ that makes it mean so much more. No matter what happens now, Colin will always know that Cormac was the first to have him. Cormac was the first person to make him scream, and Cormac wants to be the last and every time in between. Colin’s so, _so_ unbelievably tight, and it feels nothing short of perfect. It’s sheer, unadulterated ecstasy. Cormac can hardly think straight. He trails his hands down to reach under Colin’s lithe body, pulling him up, arching him forward, so every bit of skin that can be touching is. They’re stuck together with sweat, and Cormac frees one hand to slide between their stomachs, wrapping around Colin’s hard cock. He jerks Colin off while he fucks Colin hard, and Colin is shrieking nonsense, erotically rambling, “Yes, oh, yes, Cormac, ohhh, oh right there! Yes!”

Cormac loves vocal lovers. He loves to hear exactly how amazing he is in bed; he loves hearing people crumble beneath him. He plunders Colin and pumps Colin, until it’s all too much, and Colin presses up into him, screaming, “Co—!”

As soon as Colin’s load shoots over Cormac’s hand, his ass spasms wildly, ricocheting pleasure all up Cormac’s body. It’s sheer bliss, and that’s what really pushes Cormac over. Colin’s barely done coming when Cormac follows, and he bends to bite hard into Colin’s shoulder, milking out one last scream. He holds Colin’s hips down into him and pistons it all out, grinding hard, splashing inside Colin’s tight ass. Colin’s still clutching his shoulders, unable to let go. When Cormac lets go of Colin’s shoulder there’s a large, angry bite left.

Good. He wants to mark Colin, and he doesn’t want to pull out. But he does anyway, and Colin whimpers. Cormac watches his own cum slip out of Colin’s abused hole with rapt fascination; it dribbles down his thighs and onto the blankets.

Then Cormac collapses back on top of Colin, right where he belongs. 

He feels around for his wand and casts a quick spell to put the blankets on top instead of under them, making Colin squeak. Then he throws his wand to the nightstand without bothering to clean up.

He wants Colin to wake up reeking of sex and sticky with Cormac’s dried cum. Colin doesn’t protest. He looks satiated and overwhelmed, and perhaps a bit close to passing out. Brushing Colin’s sweat-matted bangs out of his forehead, Cormac drawls, “You okay?”

“That... was amazing.” Colin’s staring right up at the canopy ceiling—Cormac snorts and nuzzles into him. Colin turns and snuggles right back, wondering, “Was I alright?”

“You were perfect.”

Cormac kisses Colin hard, meaning it.


	6. Other

Often, after Cormac actually fucks someone, the appeal all drains out.

That doesn’t happen with Colin. Cormac wakes up on the far side of his bed, curled around Colin like a child with a teddy bear. They’re almost falling over the edge, and Cormac scoots back a little, tugging Colin with him. It’s a Saturday morning, and there isn’t any class, and Cormac isn’t sure why he should have to get out of bed at all. The sunlight is bright through his crimson curtains, but if he shuts his eyes tight enough, he can ignore it. Colin’s warm all over. He’s like a personal heater, just for Cormac, and the sweat from last night still shimmers on his skin. He smells like sex and _man._

Cormac likes it. He’s grown attached to Colin. He means to have a peaceful morning, but... before he knows it, he’s running his hands all over Colin’s body. It isn’t even that sexual—he just likes _touching_ Colin. 

Colin twitches suddenly and makes an erotic moaning sort of sound, maybe just waking up. Then he rolls over and blinks up at Cormac, squinting in the early morning half-light. Cormac grins and fondly pats Colin’s cheek.

Colin mirrors the smile and snuggles into Cormac’s chest, closing his eyes again and breathing out contentedly. Cormac bends down to kiss his forehead.

It’s a good morning.

* * *

Cormac lets Colin pick what he wants the room to be, for once. When they step inside, Cormac’s immediately taken aback, and it must show on his face, because Colin’s falls.

The room is tiny and cramped, half clean and half a mess. There’s Muggle shit everywhere, and there’re two little beds against the wall. There’s a curtained off window and a half open closet full of Muggle clothes. It takes Cormac a moment to realize what it is: Colin’s room.

Then he grins to himself, walking over to sit on the bed. Colin instantly bustles after him, explaining, “Oh, no—that’s Dennis’—mine is the other one.”

Cormac rolls his eyes and gets up, walking over to the other bed. It seems smaller, which makes Cormac peer at it curiously. “Aren’t you the older one?”

“Yeah, but he used to fall off when he was little, so he gets the double and I get the single.”

Cormac nods. His own bed is a king-sized, because he’s a king and he deserves it. “Wait, why didn’t you just enlarge it?”

“Enlarge it?” It takes Colin a second. “Oh, I didn’t even think of that...” 

Cormac snorts. In a way, he does understand why Slytherins only want purebloods. 

But in another way, he doesn’t understand at all. A partner’s a partner, and how much Colin knows about his culture doesn’t actually mean much to Cormac. If anything, it makes it more fun to have that adventure to take Colin on. Colin looks at Cormac like he’s a genius, and he leans back on the bed, asking, “Where do you want me?”

“This is good,” Colin answers, shifting his bag off his shoulder and getting out his camera. Cormac stretches out languidly. After a minute, he reaches down to scrunch up his shirt a bit, giving a peek at his six-pack. Colin grins, biting his lip and trying to stifle a blush.

The camera goes off, and Cormac gives it a smoldering look. Colin takes another, then another. The familiar lightshow fills the small room, until Cormac gets up and decides to pose by the closet. There’s a half-length mirror on the inside of one door, and he pretends to examine himself in it while Colin flitters around. 

Cormac’s moved over to the window when he suggests, “You should send these to a magazine.”

Colin stops, lowing the camera. He’s crouching on the ground, and he looks up at Cormac with embarrassment painted all over his face. “...Maybe someday.”

“You’ll be a great photographer,” Cormac proclaims. 

Colin looks like he’s never been happier, but he gets that way a lot with Cormac.

* * *

Cormac rounds the corner amongst a tight knit group of friends. He’s laughing about the shit save Katie did yesterday at practice, and Leonard’s guffawing like it’s the funniest thin he’s ever heard.

Then Cormac spots Colin across the courtyard, and he abruptly says, “I’ll catch you guys later.”

He gets a few waves and a nonchalant, “See yah.” They keep moving, and he marches across the grass. His classes are done for the day. He assumes Colin’s are too, because Colin’s hunched over on the edge of the bench, looking miserable.

He looks up as soon as Cormac’s shadow falls over him, and Cormac’s shocked to see tears prickling the corner of his eyes. Cormac’s never been that good at consoling anyone, and he mumbles thickly, “What’s the matter?”

Colin sniffs. Cormac drops his bag and takes a seat on the bench, shifting over to throw his arm around Colin’s shoulders. There’re a few other students around the courtyard, but no one in Cormac’s year, and he doesn’t care. Colin barely manages, “I... I failed my Defense test!”

“Is that all?” Cormac didn’t mean to be an ass about it, but... that’s not exactly the end of the world.

Colin shudders like it is, and he turns his head into Cormac’s shoulder, nuzzling into it. His small body starts to wrack with sobs, and Cormac, feeling silly, wraps his arms around Colin, squeezing and holding him tight. Colin turns his whole body into Cormac, throwing his legs over Cormac’s lap, and he rambles between tears, “I-I did everything wrong! And P-Professor Snape went off on me! This was a big test—he said it’ll all be on our O.W.L.s and I should’ve studied harder, b-but I did study, I just messed up a few things and, and—” He cuts off, and Cormac soothingly rubs his shoulder.

“It doesn’t matter. Tests don’t mean anything before your O.W.L.s anyway—that’s all the world actually looks at when you graduate. And you’ll do fine on those. ...And Snape’s an asshole; we all know that.”

Colin sniffs again. He’s clinging to Cormac as if for dear life, and it takes him a minute to mutter, “S-sorry...”

“It’s okay.” When Colin pulls back, Cormac doesn’t let go of his shoulders. Cormac kisses his tear-stained cheek, and Colin scrubs at his face with the back of his hands. When he can manage, he gives Cormac a shaky, thank-you smile. Cormac nods.

There’s a wet patch on his robes now. But he doesn’t really care. 

Being there for Colin is better than the sex he could easily get for this would be. Cormac feels strange thinking that. But the way Colin reaches to hold his hand is priceless, and Cormac squeezes Colin’s hand back. 

Trying to come up with a Muggle solution, Cormac offers, “Do you want me to egg Snape’s office?”

Colin laughs, and that smile makes Cormac feel more accomplished than anything else he’s done all day.


	7. Sky

There’s a loud crash down the corridor just as Cormac rounds it, followed by cruel laughter. “Oops! Looks like I broke your gay Muggle box.” Bletchley’s standing over Colin like a towering troll, two other Slytherins flanking him. Colin’s on his hands and knees, and his camera is... shattered. “Looks like you’ll have to find somewhere else to get dick pictures.” 

Cormac practically flies across the corridor, while Vaisey kicks the crumpled metal remains aside. It hits the wall and more glass topples out. Colin’s back is to Cormac, but it looks like he’s trembling. Cormac doesn’t register anything else—he’s in front of Colin in a second, seeing red.

“McLaggen,” Bletchley grunts, looking startled, as though he can’t fathom why anyone would stop blatant bullying in the corridors. 

“You leave him alone, you asshole,” Cormac snarls, fists balling up. There’s three of them and one of him, and he doesn’t particularly care. He’s pretty sure he can take them all, and if they don’t back down immediately, he’s going to. 

Bletchley mostly just looks taken aback, and he wrinkles his nose at Cormac. Uruqhart says, “What do you care if we call out some fag?” Then his face twists, and he adds, “What, is he your boyfriend or something?”

“Yeah, as a matter of fact, he is,” Cormac practically shouts. “Do you have something to say about that, Uruqhart? What, are you miffed we’re not related like your ugly parents?” 

It takes about one second for Uruqhart to go from shocked to enraged, and he lunges at Cormac with both hands raised. Cormac ducks and punches him in the gut, kicking him back into Bletchley. Vaisey punches Cormac right in the face, and his head snaps around, but it was a weak one, he shakes it off, and he’s on Vaisey in the next minute. He’s only vaguely aware of Colin shouting in the background, and when he topples to the ground on top of Vaisey, familiar arms are trying to pull him off. Cormac ignores them and keeps punching Vaisey right in his head, and Vaisey keeps kneeing him and hitting right back, Bletchley tackling them from the side. 

Then Cormac’s knocked aside with a curse—his back goes slamming into the wall, the Slytherins sliding in opposite directions. 

“Detention, detention all of you!” Professor Sinistra fumes, wand out and pointing between them. “Fighting in the corridors—honestly! The world has enough trouble right now! Twenty points from Gryffindor and Slytherin—”

She’s barely finished when Cormac interrupts loudly, “They broke his camera!”

“It’s a _camera_ , Mr. McLaggen! That’s no reason to act like an animal!” A flick of her wand, and the glass all goes flying back into the frame—Professor Sinistra summons the camera and taps it a few times. The dents smooth out of it, and Cormac climbs to his feet, still shaking with anger and wanting to _destroy_ something. 

Professor Sinistra hands the camera back to Colin, who takes it, looking absolutely terrified. She pats him on the shoulder and ushers him along—Colin looks over his shoulder at Cormac. But he goes.

Cormac glares daggers at all three Slytherins before following, hissing under his breath too low for the retreating professor to hear, “If you ever so much as look at my boyfriend funny again I’m gonna paint the walls with your guts.”

Then he hurries to catch up to Colin, looping an arm around Colin’s waist and leading him off. Professor Sinistra eyes them suspiciously, but Colin just smiles at her and mumbles, “Th-thank you.” So she nods and leaves them be.

Cormac sweeps Colin down a side-corridor, testing doors as he goes. The third one’s unlocked, and he pushes Colin inside, closing the door behind them.

Cormac knows he’s probably still red with anger; he’s always had a bad temper. Colin’s shaking all over, worrying his swollen bottom lip, and shifting nervously on his feet. He looks like he’s going to piss himself, and it drains the warmth right out of Cormac. There’s an overwhelming urge to _protect Colin_ in Cormac’s chest, and he tries to steady his voice as he asks, “Are you alright?”

Colin’s still clutching the camera tight. He lunges suddenly at Cormac, throwing his arms around Cormac’s chest, and he holds on tight, burying his face in Cormac’s shoulder. Cormac holds his back and rubs it in soothing circles, mumbling, “I’m sorry, baby. I swear if I ever catch them doing it again, I’ll seriously rip all their heads off.” Colin makes a sniffing sound. Cormac can feel the camera digging into his side but doesn’t say anything. Breaking Colin’s camera is akin to breaking Cormac’s broom, and he hopes his poor boyfriend hasn’t been traumatized.

...Then he realizes that it’s the first time he’s called Colin his boyfriend, and Colin probably noticed that too.

Colin pulls back a little, eyes wet. Cormac kisses his cheek, holding him protectively.

It takes a minute for Colin to calm down enough to talk properly, and then he says, “Thank you.”

“It’s okay.” Cormac hugs Colin again, more to establish dominance than anything else. It bothers him to think that other people would touch Colin; Colin’s his and only his. He takes the camera out of Colin’s hand and places it carefully on the desk beside them, not once letting go of Colin’s back.

Colin murmurs thickly into his sweater, “...Am I really your boyfriend?”

It’s probably something Cormac should think about. But he doesn’t. He just hugs Colin close and says firmly, “Yes.”

* * *

Quidditch practice is something of a mess. Weasley’s a fucking joke, and there’s no end to how much it bothers Cormac that Weasley’s the one that actually gets to play in games. They have a miniature game within the team, Weasley guarding one set of goals and Cormac guarding the other. Cormac’s team, obviously, wins. Weasley’s bitter about it, and Cormac doesn’t care that Alicia shoots him dirty looks when he talks about it loudly. 

He’s in high spirits anyway, even knowing he’s a reserve. Because Colin’s in the stands. Every time a little flash goes off the other players roll their eyes, but Cormac preens under the attention, knowing he looks amazing. Later he’ll show Colin how to make the pictures move, and they’ll admire them together, sharing passions. It’s their _thing_ , and Cormac’s mildly surprised how much _sense_ they make together. 

Practice ends an hour later, and Cormac doesn’t join the rest of them on the pitch. He veers off to the stands, landing right in front of Colin. Colin’s sitting off in his own little section, wrapped up in a scarf and the wind whipping his hair aside and turning his cheeks pink. Cormac has the sudden urge to take him for a broom ride. He wonders how Colin is at flying. Being a Muggle-born, he probably never does it outside Hogwarts.

As soon as Cormac’s in front of him, Colin’s snapping away. Cormac understands—he looks smashing in his uniform. He strides forward anyway, and Colin obediently lowers the camera. Cormac kisses him over it—flying always gets him pumped. It always makes him want Colin, makes him want everything, gets his blood flowing and turns him feral. He kisses Colin with all the fire left over from practice, and Colin eagerly returns it. 

When Cormac pulls back, Colin whines, and Cormac says breathlessly, “Get on my broom.”

“What?”

“C’mon, get on it.” Cormac mounts it again, hovering just above the bench, closer to the bristles than usual. He pats the handle in front of him. “It’s good-quality, and you’re light—it can take it.”

“Oh, I don’t...” Colin cuts himself off, shifting half-nervously, half-excitedly. “I’m not very good at flying.”

“I’ll steer, and I’m good enough for both of us.”

Cormac glances around the stands. The others have all left, and he quickly kneels down to stuff his camera into his bag—Cormac reaches over to grab his scarf, tugging it playfully. 

Colin laughs and moves to straddle the broom, climbing on awkwardly in front of Cormac. Cormac pulls him right up, arms on either side of Colin, holding him in and clutching the tip of the handle. Cormac leans his head on Colin’s shoulder, feeling drunk with everything good—all his favourite things at once. 

Then Cormac takes off—Colin squeaks and is thrown back against Cormac’s chest. Cormac kisses his cheek and climbs towards the clouds, the sunshine all around them.

* * *

Cormac almost doesn’t want to graduate. He wasted five years that he could’ve had Colin, and now Colin’s got two left and he has to leave. He knows they’ll still see each other—he’s promised as much, and he’s sure of it. But the world’s crumbling around them, and Cormac doesn’t want to leave. 

They’ve got time left. Cormac wants to cherish it. They’re in Colin’s bed, so similar to Cormac’s: Gryffindor red, and four-poster, and canopy. Colin clung to Cormac’s arm when they first paraded in, giving Cormac the distinct impression that Colin was showing him off. 

Now it’s dark, and everyone else is asleep. The spells are all up, the moonlight thin through the curtains, and Colin’s sprawled out in the mattress, blankets peeled aside. He isn’t wearing anything, and Cormac’s kissed every part of him, from his forehead to his toes. Cormac’s hovering over his cock, lapping at the tip and kissing the shaft. Colin’s writhing, moaning loudly and whispering desperately, “Cormac...” And it’s driving Cormac _wild_.

As soon as Cormac’s mouth envelops his cock, Colin breaks. His hips shoot up and Cormac has to force them down, clutching Colin’s thighs and keeping them still. Colin isn’t that big, and it isn’t hard for Cormac to take most of it into his mouth, even if this is new for him. Cormac eats a lot; he’s never had much of a gag reflex. He isn’t that fond of the taste, but it’s more than worth it to feel Colin come undone around him. He glances up Colin’s body while he tongues the side. He shifts one of his shoulders to hold Colin down, so he can reach a hand up, stretching to play with one of Colin’s nipples. Colin whimpers, and Cormac sucks. 

That makes Colin throw his head back, and his hands run down his own body. His feet twist in the sheets, and Cormac guides Colin’s fingers to play with his own nipples. It’s fucking hot, and before Cormac can stop, he’s rubbing himself off in the sheets, drinking in the gorgeous sight before him. From this angle, he can only see Colin’s chin, but the rest of it’s enough. He sucks again, and he starts to bob up and down, pleasuring Colin the way Colin always pleasures him. Colin tries to look down at him, and when their eyes connect, Cormac’s instantly impossibly hard. 

He gives Colin the, ‘you better not hump my mouth’ look, and lets go of Colin’s thigh. Colin’s straining not to buck up. Cormac reaches down to touch himself, moaning around Colin’s cock and bobbing faster, sucking harder. He jerks himself rough and dry, but it’s enough. He forces himself to keep his eyes open—he doesn’t want to miss this. 

Once, he closes them, lost in the sensations. But then he feels Colin’s fingers in his hair, and he looks back up. Colin’s staring down at him through thick, dilated, half-lidded eyes, pink-cheeked and rosy-lipped. Colin pets him, and Cormac sucks with all his might, nearly choking himself on Colin’s dick. 

Then Colin moans, “C-Cormac, I-I’m going to—to—” And he breaks off, shouting and suddenly bucking up wildly. Cormac nearly gags, and he slides his hands back to Colin’s hips, holding Colin down, pulling up, but he doesn’t make it off in time. His lips are still around the head when Colin comes in his mouth, and the salty liquid shoots across Cormac’s tongue. Cormac splutters but keeps his mouth open, and Colin gasps as he comes and comes. Cormac’s still humping the mattress.

His first instinct is to turn and spit. But he doesn’t. When he pulls off of Colin’s cock completely, he looks right into Colin’s eyes and swallows. Colin looks like he’s literally had his mind blown, and Cormac climbs up the sheet to kiss him. Colin doesn’t protest—just turns and throws an arm around Cormac’s sweaty shoulders, kissing back. Cormac jerks himself off on Colin’s stomach, coming a second later. It splatters all across Colin’s pale skin, staining the sheets. 

Cormac collapses on top of Colin, panting heavily. Colin’s breathing just as hard. His fingers move back to Cormac’s hair, stroking again, softly. Colin opens his mouth and blurts, “I love you.” 

Cormac pulls back to look at him. Colin stares right back at Cormac, brown eyes wide and desperate, needy and hopeful. His mouth is parted, eyebrows knit together. Cormac scrunches his.

He shocks himself with how easy it is to reply, “I love you too.” He doesn’t even have to think about it. 

Colin repeats, “I love you.” Then he rambles, quickly and so happily it looks like he might explode, “I love you, Cormac, I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Cormac snorts and says firmly, “I love you too, Colin.”

It’s probably near midnight. It’s dark in Colin’s bed, but Colin’s lit up like the sun. He practically glows with warmth, shining like the moon. Cormac feels like he’s caught a fallen star in the shape of a boy, beautiful and shimmering. 

He wants to hold onto that star forever. He snuggles into Colin when Colin nuzzles into him, and then Cormac reaches down and pulls the blankets up over them. He falls asleep with his arm around Colin’s shoulders, feeling fucking perfect.


End file.
